Restructure
by Clockwork Storyteller
Summary: "A person without a face cannot present themselves to the world, in the same way a country stripped of its identity cannot show itself to its people." - Yao Wang A council decided two hundred countries were far too many and drastically reduced the number. Everyone knows what happens to a nation's representative once the nation is gone, right?
1. I: Five Years Ago

**Location: Bern, Switzerland **

Date: First of June

_Five Years Ago. _

The video equipment had taken longer to install than they had estimated, but nobody complained about having to stand outside the meeting hall. Switzerland was beautiful in the summer, indigenous flowers grew outside the building, dotting the grass in little patches of colors. Flags swayed in the breeze and the little tops of the wildflowers bobbed over the rippling grass. The nation persons were lined up, waiting to enter, in order by country name. The doors finally opened and the technical support crew left, drawing sighs from a few of those in line. They had actually begun to enjoy the moment.

11:35 AM, Bern

The procession of nations entered the meeting room led by a brown haired man with two fly away hairs and ended by a girl with wavy brown hair accented by a rosy flower. Two tables stood, a large one with standard office chairs and a smaller one with elevated chairs. Everyone took their respective seat and waited to begin. Cameras and microphones were recording the meeting from different angles. The network of audiovisual equipment did not have much to capture, silence shrouded the room like a veil.

11:40 AM, Bern

Basch Zwingli, a man with cropped blond hair who appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, stood up and moved to the podium. He made sure everyone was focusing on him before making a short nod and speaking, "The announcement will be made at eleven Greenwich Time and noon here. As of now, we have twenty minutes before the announcement." A collective glance to the clock assured him everyone had been paying rapt attention, though he wondered just how many people had looked in hopes he was incorrect. He decided the matter was unimportant as he took his rightful place again. In a moment as tense as this, any trivial matter was welcome to pry their minds away from the pressing subject. Even a simple misreading of the clock would suffice to give them a better topic.

10:45 AM, Greenwich Time

The nation representatives were not the only ones awaiting the announcement with bated breath. The World Council would be casting their final vote on a proposal to restructure the system of countries. All across the world, televisions, radios, computers and phones were tuned to whatever media outlet had promised to broadcast the meeting. To say that the whole world was listening was hardly an exaggeration, given the importance of the Council's decision. Families were gathered in living rooms, strangers in plazas, and individuals waited alone. Commuters and workers listened at least. People in all time zones, as late or early as it may be, were awake to witness the event unfold. The decision would arrive in fifteen minutes, the event was not only international, it was historical. No one dared to miss it, the whole world was still, watching and waiting.

11:50 AM, Bern

The room was still, as if instead of people, statues occupied the chairs. The nations were all silent, unmoving and watching. The votes had been cast and merely needed to be tallied. They all stared, holding their breath, waiting to hear the final results. Awaiting their fate. Sometimes they caught each other's eyes, glaces that flickered away from the screen nervously only to meet another pair of anxious eyes. The room was full to the extent of its capacity, yet it felt like nothing was moving within its walls. Time dragged on

10:55 AM Greenwich Time

Everything was a countdown. The people had not started counting fifty-five minutes ago, nor sixty. They had been counting for hours, for days. They had counted time, countries, votes; they just _counted._ Now they were counting again, counting down until the declaration was made. The time had nearly come. Five minutes to go. They could hold on a little longer.

11:59, Bern

Faces paled and hearts pounded inside the meeting room. Nails were digging into palms and people trembled in anxiety. Some of them glanced at their flags. Others drank shakily from their water glasses.

Thirty seconds to go.

Twenty seconds to go.

Ten seconds to go.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

_One. _

11:00 AM, Greenwich Time

"The results are in. Eighty-six percent of the World Council voted in favor of the proposed plan to restructure our countries." The message echoed throughout the world. "The system will go into full effect within thirty days."

All of Earth was on mute…

…_then the screaming began._

12:00 PM, Monday, First of June, Bern Switzerland

A series of thuds snapped them all back from their shock. Gasps, shrieks and screams reverberated in the room. A glass water pitcher had fallen and shattered as if in slow motion. Thuds sounded as chairs toppled over.

At the main table, Erzsébet Hedáváry found herself in the middle of two scenes, the Prussian to her left lay motionless on the floor and the Austrian to her right had shot up in his seat. The latter had made his way to the small table. Everyone that could manage it stood up. At the small table, four children were stock still, and at the main table eight adults were in the same state. People steadied themselves on the table, others covered their open mouths. Hearts were pounding furiously inside their frightened chests.

11:01 AM, Greenwich Time

People took to the streets in unplanned protest. They chanted hastily made slogans and waved flags through the streets they took over. Outrage fueled them and provoked them to tie themselves to posts and yell obscenities. Teenagers and adults led the impromptu protests. Workers declared strike and walked out on their employers, with the latter joining in soon afterward — they were also affected. Other than distasteful gestures and foul language, the protests were peaceful. No one was injured and there was no property damage, the worst result being a disruption to the flow of traffic. After all, they were seeking a peaceful resolution.

12:02 PM, Bern

Berwald Oxenstierna, who was by no definition weak, appeared to be made of steel. Still, he was just a man. He heard the thuds and turned, not at all expecting what he saw. Nothing could ever have prepared him for what he saw: Peter was slumped in his chair and Sven was face down on the table. Others had reached the table first. Roderich was trying to revive Franz, Arthur attempting with Peter and Berwald, himself, was trying to save Sven. Tino had slowly made his way over, the fierce fighter who backed down to no one, unable to process what he saw.

Everyone at the small table could hear Jett, his voice cracking as he pleaded desperately for Lisbeth to wake. He had tried resuscitation, to no avail, the paintbrush in her hand had long slipped from her fingers, the warmth of her touch fading from it with every passing moment. His words resonated with everyone in the vicinity of the smaller table, _this was cruel. _

The scene at the main table was not much better. Ludwig had tried to revive Gilbert, having found no vital signs on his brother when he checked. Lovino was in the middle of two lifeless forms, flanking both his sides. He had shaken Feliciano in hopes that the younger had just chosen a horrible time to fall asleep. Both Carlino and Feliciano were unresponsive and his attempts of resuscitation had been useless, resulting in the southern Italian cursing. His voice was cracking and low, wispy and unsteady even as he tried not to show how much he was hurting.

At a different segment of the main table, Yao Wang had been helpless to watch as life flowed out of two young men who represented different autonomous regions. Yin Ling had tried to revive Xiao Chun, the representative of Hong Kong, while Yao had given it his all to bring back Lai Jie, the person who stood for Macau. He buried his head in his hands as he looked at Yin Ling, who looked just as lost as he did. This was not something a four thousand year old man's heart could bear.

The usually cool, collected American was in a panic. He had been unable to save Steven, which made him sick with worry in the matter of seconds in took for Mathieu to pat his arms and offer comfort. None of the motionless people could be saved, a fact that crushed them all and hit Alfred the hardest. His optimism had taken a nose dive when Steven did not come back up when his leaning chair fell. He never dropped for that long, he made it a point to call the blond a fussy nanny every time it happened.

Turkey held TRNC gently, Cyprus and himself having already tried to rouse the younger. It was just as ineffective as it had been for everyone else, but they had given it a try. It was all they could have done for the boy, anyway.

The phone rang, making most of them jump. Basch picked up the call but put the phone on speaker, not trusting himself to hold the receiver in his numbed state.

"This is Andrew Peters from the World Council, calling to inform you—"

Alfred cut him off, barking angrily, "We already know what the decision was! Explain to us why eight adults and four children just dropped like flies!"

"You must already know that countries that cease to exist no longer need a representative. Oh, those nations that were not countries themselves obviously are the first ones affected. The Continental Nation System disbanded nations that were not internationally recognized or part of a larger self-sufficient country were the first to be disbanded. All _other_ nations are disbanding voluntarily. The system will be fully implemented in thirty days." The councilman replied coolly.

A furious, terrified Lovino growled, "You low life, inconsiderate, asshole! You're telling me everyone in this room is going to die and you don't give a fuck?!" The only reply was the call end tone.

11:05 AM, Greenwich Time

In just five minutes, various government buildings throughout the globe found themselves surrounded by people. It had taken a mere five minutes to turn a handful of protesters into overflowing streets. Flags of all sizes and colors flew in the air, gripped forcefully in the hands of those who opposed the Continental Nation System. News vehicles, with their equipment and perky reporters, joined the masses. The newscasts worldwide were attempting to alert any who still did not know of the waves of people swarming the streets, but hardly anyone required their assistance. It seemed as if the entire population of earth had come out to chant, scream and march. They demanded to know why the system had been approved.

People of all ages and occupations flooded the streets, taking flags from where they could and marching with them in the streets. This was no ordinary Monday, June was making out to be an interesting month. Footsteps thundered and chants resonated in the streets. The world was awake, and with it was a sense of unity. The CNS did not sit well with those in the streets. The protesters were university students, mothers, soldiers and bakers; they were teachers, chauffers, and dreamers. Nobodies who seemed only to add a number to statistics and the famous who sneezed and caught attention of the media. They were the world, and they were unhappy. They all had something precious to defend, something the World Council had ripped from them only moments ago. They were going to get it back, they were going to win. They were determined. They chanted on.

12:10 PM, Bern

His body now leaned against the wall, looking almost as if he had simply fallen asleep. A black and white flag fluttered down over the man who had once represented what it stood for. Erzsébet's lip trembled and tears rolled down her face, but she tried to muster up a smile. Ludwig looked at her, the gesture had been touching. Roderich lifted Franz and set him down next to Gilbert. Ludwig got up and draped the flag of Kugelmugel over the boy. The action repeated with different people, the previous mourner placing a flag over the body of the next loss. Before long, all twelve of the disappearing nations were leaning against the wall and each other, giving the illusion of simply a dozen sleeping people.

They looked so peaceful, with flags over them like blankets. They were not just nations, they were also people with personal lives. A paper rustled in the otherwise silent room. The quiet Canadian looked over to the American's shoulder. Neat handwriting spelled out a heading which read _In Memory of _. He walked over to Germany and murmured something to the other, giving the latter a pen. The taller blond took it and wrote on the paper, passing it over to Roderich and encouraging the Austrian when he hesitated. Australia said something to America before taking the list from the Germanic, Berwald watched Arthur writing _Sealand _before he wrote Sven on the list. The paper was pinned to the wall after everyone had been included.

In Memory Of:

Gilbert Beilschmidt — The Kingdom of Prussia

Franz Hass — Republic of Kugelmugel

Lisbeth Hart — Principality of Wy

Nathan Jordan — Hutt River

Peter Kirkland — Principality of Sealand

Sven Olsson — Ladonia

Steven Miller — Molossia

Xiao Chun — Hong Kong.

Lai Jie — Macau

Feliciano Vargas — Italian Republic (North)

Carlino Vargas — Seborga

Esref Tanrinkulu — Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus

America stood up and faced the dozen, unmoving forms leaning on the wall. He gave them a military salute before speaking, "It was an honor and a privilige to have known each and every one of you. May you rest in peace." Silence returned to the room, ended in a few moments by the Chinese man.

"Thirty days, they said." China asked.

"Yes, but we can't be guaranteed all thirty days. We saw…" Arthur responded before choking up.

"Could we all spend this time together? All of us…" Alfred suggested weakly. They all looked at him, nobody opposed the idea. It was preferable to spending whatever time they had left, alone. The clock ticked, echoing in the quiet room. Time was not on their side.

Tick tock. Tick. Tock. **Tick. **_**Tock. **_


	2. II

It had been five years since the historic World Council meeting. Five long years filled with protest and widespread resistance. Finally, the unrest had died down. Normalcy had somewhat returned to the world. The governments had finally managed to rein in the public. People began to abide by the laws and adjust to the new systems. Everything seemed to be going well. The world seemed to have finally achieved total peace. Happily ever after existed in every home and every workplace. The old ways had faded in order to accommodate the new. Restructuring the world had been the best idea any government had ever proposed. The new council would be meeting on this day. It was also the fifth anniversary of the new system's approval.

The new system was The Continental Nation System, and it was hailed as the best thing to happen to Earth as a whole. It provided a more unified world by disposing of the former structure of such and replacing it with a more concise version. Two hundred nations or so, that had been the old number, had been neatly compacted into seven. Seven large nations, each spanning an entire continent, now held the reins of the world.

The name "Continent Nation" was not an entirely accurate title, since the nations went beyond the geographical confinements of a continent. The prime example was The Greater Union of Oceania, which claimed beyond the Australian continent into New Zealand and into the surrounding islands. Even so, the name was accepted and the world was divided into seven regions. Each region was autonomous and responsible for the inhabitants within, the seven regions as a whole promising to care for the population of the world as a whole. It had been an arduous effort to make the system recognized by the people, one which had lasted longer than the five years since the system was in effect.

These new nations each had a new name, to celebrate the transition and attempt to remove the affiliation to any former country. The names of the seven new nations were the Kingdom of Antarctica — leader of the Terra Novum —, the Republic of the African Continent, the Cooperative Asian State, the European Free Empire, the Northern American Union, the Southern Democratic Republic of the Americas, and the Greater Union of Oceania. Each of the continent-spanning nations had a flesh and blood identity, something that called to the not so distant past. In the past, nations had been represented by the form of a person as well as the land holdings. Those people had been the essence of the nation in human form. Now, only seven nation-persons existed, each one taking on the same task their predecessors for their respective nations. These new people, nicknamed "The Seven", would be entering a meeting hall soon.

They had all sat in the chairs and walked into the room many times, but the aura was grim on this day. It was supposed to be a festive day, a celebration of five years as a new world, but something was wrong. Nova Snow, the human representation of Antarctica tried to bring the attention of her companions to the board held up by an easel. The others seemed distraught, they did not hear her no matter what she said. She tapped her pointer on the table, catching the attention of Wen Li, the petite Asian who represented the Cooperative Asian State. The woman murmured an apology and nudged Nicholas Cook, who was looking out the window. The others caught on and turned back to the easel, only giving the presenter their half-hearted attention. Nova looked them over with concern and decided to pause her speech in favor of asking them their worries.

"Is something the matter?" She inquired gently.

The tall, freckled European replied, "The World Memorial Museums all have their inaugurations today. All seven of them. We were discussing the matter on the way here."

"You mean, the _rebel_ museums?" Nova gasped, shocked at all of them and looking around the room to read their expressions.

"Their proper names really are the _World Memorial Museums_ but yes, those museums." He asserted, disappointed in her attitude toward a place she had yet to visit.

"So the rebel museums are really opening and you are planning to visit. When were you planning on the trip?"

"Well, we were planning on going directly after this meeting. That's probably why we are so distracted, we heard they are sad. The World Memorial Museum of Antarctica is not far from here, if you want to join us." Li explained, not wishing to delay more. They exchanged more words about the subject before resuming the meeting. They each discussed matters from their own countries, listened to one another and made polite commentary on the presentations. These current world meetings were much drier than the ones with the previous group of nations. Time dragged on for them all, all of them nearly aching to see the museum.

The World Museum of Antarctica was only one of the seven, identical museums in the world. Each building had been built to replicate scenery from a video that had caused much controversy. Five years was plenty of time to forget ninety heart-wrenching minutes. The dormant memory of the footage lay undisturbed for five years. No one thought much of the video that had sparked the ardent fire of resistance anymore. The seven museums were made to reignite the flame, they were meant to bring back the memories, stir up emotions and to challenge the new world order.

The people who had erected the museums, the so-called rebels, did not want to give in to the new system. The museums had been a compromise, the headquarters for a new wave of rebellion, masked as a work of artistic expression. These "rebels" had been the protesters of five years ago, the very same people sardined into jail cells. There were so many of them that the seven new nations had proposed a different punishment. A community service project of their choosing, but approved by the International Council. Their first proposal had been of a memorial of some sort, but it was rejected. The same proposal was disguised under the word museum and submitted a second time, earning the approval.

They had been sent to work immediately, as the overcrowding in the jails for the civil matter was growing out of hand. For five, backbreaking years, they worked to achieve the final product. The video had been their inspiration for the design, one of the lead protesters had discovered the footage —which depicted the old nation-persons as their countries were disbanded. The rebels caused no more trouble, building without complaining and working without conflict during their time in the project. They did this for those who had been silenced — their voices would be heard over and over again in the museum's walls. Gone but not forgotten. If uprisings began again as a result of the museums, so be it.

* * *

Nova entered the museum, tucking her dark brown hair behind her. She was well-built, but even smaller than Wen Li. Her compact body was great for retaining heat, and she had to admit being big was an advantage in the depths of an Antarctic winter. Standing beside the other six of the nation persons, she saw just how indicative of their regions their build really was. Li had medium length black hair, medium brown eyes and her frame was petite and thin. Her eyes were almond shaped, and at a slight diagonal, though more noticeable than the slant in Nicholas Cook's eyes. José Sandoval, South America, was shorter than the Northerner but more rugged. Ebony Benoit, Africa, was tall and fit her set face poised and serious. She seemed to be some form of a lioness in a woman's body. They fit right in with the image of their nations in Nova's mind, but somewhere they still felt restless about the matter.

Nova had been so busy with her thoughts on their physical appearances that she did not notice when they had left her standing alone. Making her way to a lone podium at the entrance seemed the logical next step and she approached. A map of the museum stood behind it, and she ignored the stand in favor of directions. The map was neatly divided into eight segments, six of the eight named after regions of the Earth. The left side of the map read **AFRICA, ASIA,** and **AUSTRALIA AND OCEANIA. **She paused, a little confused. Australia? That was an old name, the region was simply Oceania now. The last sign on the left read **PHOTOGRAPHY AND VIDEO HALL.** The right side listed **EUROPE**, **NORTH AMERICA**, **CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICA,** and **FACILITIES.** Underneath these capitalized, bold titles were lists in Italics. She saw nothing pertaining to Antarctica and could not find a place to start. She decided herself on the Photography and Video Hall. The name was slightly misleading, as the room was lined with wax recreations of photographed scenes. All wax figures were true to the scale, carefully crafted to be as close to perfection as possible.

Nova stood, facing what she estimated at around sixty wax figures. The photograph used to recreate these figures stood beside her on a slender stand. She did not know it, but these wax figures had were the recreations of the human representatives who had been the former countries. She mistook them for rebels; a representative group, per se, of the very people who had caused such a disruption to peace five years earlier. She shook her head in disgust at the fact that among them were a handful of children, walking away with displeasure in her features. The poor young things, left to watch the adults arrested around them and learning that this was acceptable. Nova sighed heavily as she walked farther away.

She made her way to a small, slightly interactive video booth. So far she did not feel any pull from the museum, whatsoever. Having already seen plenty of people crying, she could not understand why. Absolutely nothing in the place evoked sadness from her. She had merely noticed a repetition of the same people in wax, the same flags and a beautiful digital display of a globe with the continents divided and colored in patterns she did not comprehend.

Her finger touched the interactive screen and she was met with a warning in multiple languages about viewer discretion advised and this finally got a reaction from her. Her eyebrow raised in a questioning manner and she opted to give the video ten minutes of her time. If in ten minutes it did nothing to move her, she would leave the museum and denounce all the people crying over it as lunatics.

Another sign informed her that the video she was about to watch was the very inspiration for the design of the museum and she rolled her eyes at the idea of watching rebel propaganda. Still, she had made her mind up on the ten minutes and she pressed play when the option to do so appeared. There was a last warning about the video not being a dramatization, but legitimate footage of the events as they happened and she groaned. If the images would be cutting to warnings every few moments, it was not worth her nine minutes and forty eight seconds remaining.

On screen, a group of people filed into a very familiar room. Snow gasped, they were in the World Council meeting hall in Bern, Switzerland! She looked at their faces, closely inspecting them and found they were the same as the wax "rebels" outside. She felt pity for the children recreated in wax, watching them as they filed in. She was amazed that the hall was filled, not a single empty chair remained. Nowadays World Council halls felt so empty with only the seven of them. The video cut to a man with a ponytail standing in front of a curtain while she had been thinking of the emptiness.

"This was the final world meeting ever held. The people you see in this video each represent a nation. What you are about to witness is the disappearance of nations." The man spoke with an accent that reminded Snow of Wen Li. The video cut again to a series of photographs, the viewer watching with lukewarm interest. She still wrote them off as rebels who had over glorified themselves in a video they claimed was tragic.

The action started, a meeting among these people about to begin. She was readying herself to leave, not feeling in the mood to sit through a rebel operation, when something caught her attention and held it.

* * *

((This story has been in my head for literally years now, but I had lost many important pieces of it. Now that I have the entire thing I can make the most out of this! Thank you to everyone who waited patiently for my seemingly endless hiatus to end. I appreciate all the readers who even take a moment to consider my work worth a read.))


	3. III: Day Two - Five Years Ago

Tuesday, second of June, Bern, Switzerland.

The sunlight snuck in under the curtains, alerting them that a new day was upon them. Ludwig got up from his seat and began making rounds to check on the inhabitants of the room. Some of them were absent from their original sleeping places, so he looked over at the window where his brother was fading away. If any of the people absent from the sleeping places were leaned against the window sill, he knew that meant they had been lost as well. He gently nudged Arthur awake. His watch was over and Arthur was to take over at dawn, he was exactly on schedule.

The Englishman gave a grunt before waking up and making his way to the recently vacated chair. They had assigned the object as their watchperson's seat, as it faced the room at an angle that allowed maximum view of the inside as well as the doors. The watch person was assigned to not only watch the room but conduct checks every half hour. Everyone in the room had agreed to the rather invasive checks. The watch person had to feel for a pulse in the others during the checking process. Some had suggested that the watch person feel for breathing, but arguments had been made against the method since some people might breathe too softly and it would result in said people being woken up unnecessarily.

Ludwig watched Arthur perch himself on the chair, holding a warm cup of tea in hand before allowing himself to sleep. Arthur muttered a few words about how hopeless this situation felt before focusing on the light creeping past the edges of the curtains. He would only be on watch until half the people were awake. Not that he cared too much for others' sleeping schedules, he still hoped many of them were early risers. At best, he would have to do a one-hour watch, at worst he would be on his post for six hours. He took a sip of his tea and looked around.

Tuesday, Second of June. Worldwide.

The government buildings remained surrounded by disapproving citizens. Some had gone so far as to make camp outside the grounds of such. World leaders found themselves cornered in the buildings. No one was being attacked, so there was no justification for calling in officers to make peace. It would have made little difference in the matter, seeing as the masses consisted of people from all walks of life. Families of the leaders, some leaders themselves were on the same side as the protesters. They were all held by one thread, united for the sake of national pride. To take away their national identity was unforgivable. The World Council members had been sent escorts in case anything turned violent. Should bad turn to worse, the council members would at least have some protection.

From Antarctica to Zimbabwe, people were still shaking the news off. Twenty-four hours ago their nations had been given the ultimatum to disband or be disbanded. Knots were still hard on their throats, the screamed "No" and "Why" rang in their ears through the chants. A world divided just days before was bonding into one. Had their ancestors not died seeking national identity? Was international differentiation of people no longer important?

The people who held hands in human chains around the buildings could not believe that nationality no longer mattered to the legislators who had voted in favor of demolishing the carefully constructed system and reconstructing it into a helter skelter patchwork of land division. What had human history achieved then, if all they had amounted to could be crumbled with the utterance of the word "aye"?

Fingers trembled as the human chains began to stiffen their hands. Eighteen hours ago the call had been made to "chain" the buildings where the government agents had stolen away in fear. They felt dry in their throats, volunteers had begun giving them water and nourishment while they each served their eight hour arrangements. A hasty arrangement of schedules and teams had been created in order to never leave the buildings "unchained", those not acting as a human link agreeing to nourish the ones who were.

The reaction had thus far been to allow the protesters to tire themselves out. Surely their cries and foolishness would subside once they were exhausted of being ignored. They were not going to change the decision simply because some people were immature. The council had done their duty and the citizens would have to accept the fate whether or not they liked it. With that thought being put on the table, the agents of government carried their duties out from inside the confines of the buildings that were blocked away by camps of those nuisances. Nothing would keep the legislation from moving as it should, if history had not taught them that much, they misunderstood what purpose their ancestors had served in moving the earth this far.

Those fools were impeding the forward motion of growth, they would be naturally taken care of. It was always such a reaction to world events, if history served any purpose, the legislators had agreed. No forward motion was ever left to progress of its own accord, there were always some who either wanted to go backward or at least remain motionless. Those people were always defeated, as surely as a clock, forward is the only path in which history ever marches. To want to go counterclockwise would grind gears and damage the clockwork. They would realize this soon enough and stop before the grinding of metal on metal heated to the point of fire. If things got that hot, the whole system would be doused and remade from the ground up, but not before the irregular workings of the system had destroyed themselves in the process. That was to be avoided at all costs. The new system was foe peace and for constructive methods. Destruction was the way of the past, it was not their modus operandi anymore.

Tuesday, Second of June. Bern, Switzerland.

Basch cleared his throat, Roderich was still sitting stiffly at the piano. He had not made any effort to play, the cover still impeding him from using the keys. The blond opened up the cover and put sheet music before the Austrian. Slow, sour notes screeched out from the instrument, the musician's fingers like lead. Once the melody took him over, the music flowed mournfully from the strings. It was the only thing appropriate for them, a goodbye to the sound of a piano. Everyone was silent, waiting for the music to end before speaking. The melody echoed slightly before fading out once Roderich had regained himself enough to add his personal touch to the piece. He ended with the most well-known part from Joy to the World. It was somewhat ironic but no one protested, after all, that last part was not for them but for the people they left behind, all the people from their nations.

"Has anyone heard of which countries voted against the system?" Alfred muttered to Mathieu. The Canadian repeated the query louder, to the rest of the room. There were a few furtive glances, as if people were afraid to admit which side their nation had been in favor of, afraid of anger directed at them. Slow responses began from the corner of the room closest to the door.

"Russia, China, Cuba, Japan, and Taiwan against. Liechtenstein, the Nordic region, Switzerland and Canada declared neutrality. All the rest in favor?" Alfred ran his hand through his hair. There were not enough nations to propose an appeal, even if the neutrals voted against.

"Please, be calm all, this was an error on our leaders' parts we should not personally punish each other for this." Basch announced upon seeing worried faces throughout the room.

"We swear on it, we are here in support of one another. Despite any differences we may have had in our past. All in favor?" The American's voice called to them all. The response was a unanimous "aye" without any sort of hesitation.

Erzsébet cleared her throat to draw attention to herself before speaking, "As previously agreed, we are only allowed out of the room in teams of two for no more than fifteen minutes absence time per team. Natalya and Iryna have been absent fifteen minutes now, I have been the time monitor for their outing. I propose Emma and I go out to check on them. They logged their outing as a trip to the restroom. If the log does not lie, then it is only suitable for two women to go. We give them one minute more. If they have not returned, Emma and I will go."

Ivan turned to the clock and watched the second hand sweeping across its face with bated breath. He did not know why he had allowed his two sisters to be one team. He could not be sure of either of their fates now, and if they had fallen, the restroom scene was not one he wanted to discuss. There were so many factors he did not want to think of. Natalya may have frightened him at times, but she was sweet and shy, and loveable. Iryna may have been far too soft but her heart was as big as the smile she managed to give them all despite her hardships. Most of all, he did not want to be alone. He detested loneliness, and his sisters were the only ones who did not cringe at the sight of him.

The red hand finally swept past the fancy, Roman numeral three on the clock face, its original position when he had started watching it. He faced the door where Emma and Erzsébet were receding from view. He was never a man for luck, but he hoped it was on his side just this once. After what felt like hours to Ivan, the second team returned. Iryna was clutching onto Emma and sobbing. Erzsébet was carrying Natalya, who was still in her arms.

Ivan rushed toward the latter, startling her so she took a step back. Natalya was too proud for such treatment. Her eyes and mouth were open, as if she had been in the middle of speaking. Stuck on one of the bows of her dress was a paper which was scrunched in different angles. The sign pointed to stress, Natalya was not one for such obvious fragility, so Ivan reasoned that whatever was part of that stress was important enough that she had wanted to discuss it with her warm-hearted older sister. It took Ivan a moment to decipher the message, as it was in Belarusian as well as in Natalya's small cursive. Once he had made out the words, he breathed out. He choked them out for Iryna to hear.

"Natalya wrote 'Belarus voted in favor. Forgive me.'" Ivan choked, Iryna pulling him into a close hug and nodding. They took the girl from Erzsébet and closed her eyes, placing her against the wall of the fallen.

Roderich played her national anthem as the Turk lay the flag of Belarus over the girl. The routine was starting again. Someone falls, the previous mourner places a flag over their body. So on and so forth. This was the fate they had been assigned.

The Baltic trio made their way slowly to the siblings. This was not the time for distrust, fear or hard feelings. This was the time to start anew, to forgive and stand by each other so their dying breaths were not hostile nor in vain. No one knew who would fall last nor next. All they knew was that no one was going to make it out alive. In such a situation it was best to put the past behind them and have each other's backs, rather than be at each other's throats.


End file.
